Hannibal
by jaredpadalegay
Summary: ?I'm not good at summarizing things?


Will sat on the small sofa by the window of Hannibal's office, palms in his eyes, still trying to figure out why, for the fifth time, he couldn't remember a thing from the previous day. Evidently, he had completed what he was asked, but he didn't remember a thing about it, he'd gone to Jack to apologise but he'd been assured that he seemed fine and the job was done well. Jack had then asked him if everything was alright and of course, he told him he was fine, doubtfully.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hannibal asked, pouring wine for himself. He sat in the chair opposite Will, staring at him as if he could see right into him, with more concern than a general psychiatrist should have for a patient. He cared about Will, more than most others. He wasn't supposed to have a friendship with any patience, but this was an exception.

Will sighed deeply. "I don't know. The body was in a heap on the floor, open wounds specifically in the chest and lower abdomen. Heart and kidney ripped out – literally ripped. It's hard to tell if the killer even used a knife to remove the organs or not. I remember doing it."

Hannibal didn't let his distress show, but what he showed and what he felt were two completely different things. "You think you killed him?"

"No. No I know I didn't. I just remember the feeling.

He was still alive, as the blade sank into his skin. I heard his screams while I reached into the cut and pulled out a kidney. Trying to silence him with a hand over his mouth. Then another cut – left of his chest. I took his heart in my right hand, silencing him with my left, that's when he fell to the ground."

Will was in his trance – Hannibal knew this, so he didn't question it, just stared, knowingly. He knew exactly what the killer did – why he did it. "He's eating them." Hannibal nodded, lips tightly squeezed together. Will was coming to close to the killer in this path, and he had to stop him.

"I think you need some time. Stop thinking of this particular case." He blurted, it was a bad choice of words but he was running out of time to say anything before it got suspicious.

"Are you trying to distance me from the killer, Dr Lecter? Why?"

"You had the chance to quit and I don't see why you didn't take it. A blind man could see what it's doing to you. I care for you, Will, I would hate to see anything happen to you." In general, what he was saying was true, but what he said wasn't the reason for wanting Will to step back from his work.

Will huffed a laugh and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Well, I'm good at my job. People die if I don't do my job." Hannibal considered this.

"Your life is more important than your job, Will. I don't care about the people you save. It would affect me if you died, not if they did. I hope you figure this out before it's too late."

* * *

The next day, Will walked in on Beverly and Brian talking in the lab about how specific body parts were removed, which they assumed were for transplants. Will rolled his eyes and spoke in an obvious tone; "He's not a doctor! And he's done it before. He chose those specific body parts because he knows what tastes good, and he knows how to cook it." He cringed slightly at the thought, as he pictured it happening.

"How do you know this?" Brian mumbled.

"It's my job, for one thing. Also, it's obvious. The organs are ripped out messily, if a knife was even used it's hard to tell. This shows that he's using the organs to eat them." He swallowed, going back into his trance. "When he wants to cook the body parts, he will simply cut off the torn parts, because they're unneeded. If he were a doctor trying to make a transplant he would have cut precisely and accurately to make the operation easier. He would have killed him before cutting any parts to make sure that there would be no tears in the organs, he wouldn't have wanted him to suffer, he would have just wanted the parts.

In this, the victim was alive through the most part. In general, the killer only wanted the body parts to cook, but he enjoyed to victim's pain as a bonus. He gets a thrill from watching them try to escape, the fear and agony in their eyes during the process.

He convulses in laughter as he pauses, giving the victim enough time to fall to their knees and try to crawl away, he likes to see the hope shred from the eyes as he towers over them to make his last, vital move. He sees it as hunting, like hunting animals, he doesn't see these people as human, he sees food.

This isn't killing people to help people, or killing people _just_ to eat them. This is murder. Flat out, brutal, psychotic murder."

* * *

Later in the day they'd found a suspect. Jack had gone to his house for dinner, to talk about Will, he wanted to know briefly what was going on, he'd been worried because Will hadn't seemed himself, and he was certain something was wrong. He'd been served heart. It was claimed to be pig's heart, but the hesitation before he answered 'pig' said differently.

It wasn't a fortunate dinner at all, besides the possible human meat he'd been served, he couldn't find anything out about Will because of patient confidentiality.

"But I am his boss. I have to know what is going on."

"And I am his psychiatrist. It is law that I do not share anything to do with patients, Will will tell you anything if he feels need."

Being a psychiatrist, this guy could easily tell what people were thinking. He knew by the way Jack looked at his dinner, then at him, that he didn't believe for a second that it was pig's heart. Points to him though, he did eat it anyway.

Come the end of the dinner, as Jack left, they shook hands and Jack said "I'll be in touch." The host had told him he could come any time he'd like, but left out the fact that he'd be gone if he did. He had to get away because he was being found out. So if anybody was to come back for him in the next 2 or so days, which would be how long it would take them to figure out that they were probably right and he'd have to be called in to question, he'd be gone. And he'd planned it since the funny look he'd gotten at the dinner table.

* * *

"I hear you've spoken to Jack?" Will had just barged in through the door. Hannibal didn't mind, though. He had told him that he could, assured him that they were friends and friends are allowed to just show up without warning. He didn't sound angry, far from it, actually. He only sounded curious, conversation starter, perhaps.

Hannibal got worried, what if Jack had mentioned things to Will, what if he didn't trust him anymore? If Will found out what Jack knew, he would definitely have tried to get inside Hannibal's mind and he would be sure to be found out. He didn't want to have to kill Will, they were friends, you don't kill friends, you protect them.

"If you're worried I have told him something without your permission, I haven't."

Will looked at him impatiently and shook his head. "No, I don't care. Apparently you're a suspect." He stated. Hannibal breathed in and closed his eyes, trying to think of what to say next. "If you say it's not you, I will believe you. I didn't believe that it was when I was told. But if you don't deny it, it's plausible and I've got to be the one to figure it out."

The psychiatrist tilted his head slightly. "Figure what out?"

"How to get you out of it." Will rushed his words as if it were obvious. "You're not going to prison, Dr Lecter. If you did do it I'm sure you had your reasons. Please just tell me it wasn't you and we can get on with it, though. This shouldn't even be an issue."

There was a long pause. A pause of eye contact and deep breaths, spaces only a few inches apart from each other. Hannibal was the one to turn, and his eyes dropped down. "I killed him." He said simply.

Will stepped back, he sat with his legs tightly together, eyes squinted as he rubbed his face, tension rising. He breathed in deeply and was about to ask why, but was interrupted. Part of him was glad, he didn't want to know.

"I have to get away. Now, I'm going to anyway, but I would much rather you were with me." Hannibal had expected an immediate 'What?! No.' But he'd made the suggestion anyhow. Will looked as if he was about to suggest something against it, so he interrupted again. "Abigail, too. We'll all go."

Will closed his eyes tightly before answering, he wanted to say yes but there was too much to get around. "Abigail is 18. How do I know she, or I, can trust you? You killed someone, Hannibal! And then you ate him! I don't want to eat people, and I really don't want to be eaten, or Abigail, especially her."

"We are Abigail's fathers, Will. It is our job to protect her. And you are my best friend. There is nothing I would do to harm either of you, surely you know that." He did his best not to sound desperate, but he was.

"My job is to save people. I'd be living with somebody who kills people, hell, technically I'm helping by not turning you in. People die, and I feel like I've killed them, when I know I haven't. Think how much worse it will be if it turns out I helped." He choked.

"You don't have to play the hero, Will."

"No.

But you don't have to play the villain."

It was silent after that, for a while. Neither of them left, neither of them even moved, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Hannibal sat at his desk, tapping lightly and looking down. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but he was worried. Not that he'd get caught for the murder, but that he'd end up alone.

Will sat on the sofa by the window, still. He thought a lot. He thought about how he was certain he and Abigail would be safe, how he could more than likely convince the killing to stop. That they could be a family, find a place, away from this, and live together happily. Well, as happy as they could make it. He could get a different job, which didn't involve his mental health to be at risk, and, give it a year and it would be like none of the previous events had ever happened.

Hannibal looked up as Will stood, he raised from his chair to meet him. He looked down to his feet, having to speak fast because he was unsure of his decision, but at the same time knew it's what he wanted.

"What about my dogs?" He muttered, slowly looking up.

"We'll take them. Find a place big enough to keep them." Hannibal smiled back, but only slightly, he used only his mouth and there was no happiness in his words. Will nodded, sadly, but surely. He mouthed a silent 'okay'. Hannibal looked at him, puzzled. "So you'll go with me?" He asked, making it clear that was not what he expected.

Will's smile picked up and stifled a laugh. He was standing in front of a cannibalistic serial killer, who was getting slightly too happy that a patient of his could possibly 'run away' with him. Close friend or not, it was funny.

"I'll go with you."


End file.
